


All the Love You'll Ever Get

by payback16



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Breakup, F/M, Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Pre-X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/payback16/pseuds/payback16
Summary: She wants to cry. Thinks she should be crying as she makes the decision to end the most significant relationship she has ever had. But the tears refuse to come.Audio version available on the Audio Fanfic Podcasthere.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 35
Kudos: 65
Collections: X-Files Angst Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	All the Love You'll Ever Get

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScullyLovesQueequeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLovesQueequeg/gifts).



> Prompt: "Scully gave Mulder chances to change. He didn't. I'd like a story that explores the idea of Scully moving on from Mulder, and maybe Mulder gets his shit together because of it."
> 
> Thanks to @stellaxxgibson and @monikafilefan for betaing! 
> 
> Dialogue from TFWID, FTF, The Truth, IWTB

It is a quiet night in Farrs Corner, as most are, the night she decides to leave. A light dusting of snow blankets the rural town. Scully can hear it crunching under her tires as she navigates her way home, her mind a million miles away. On the passenger seat next to her sits a tupperware container with half a dozen leftover chocolate cupcakes, a surprise from one of her favorite nurses at the hospital. Along with a short text from Bill and her mother’s morning phone call, it has been the only acknowledgment of the day. Her fiftieth birthday. 

Reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but there is a part of her, buried deep down, that hopes Mulder has something up his sleeve. She doesn’t know why it matters so much. She can count on one hand the number of times Mulder had remembered her birthday. It was standard practice that she would draw his attention to the date first thing in the morning and in lieu of a gift, he would instead unwrap her. In the end it was always a much more pleasurable experience than receiving any book or scarf. Never once had she interpreted his lack of interest in the anniversary of her birth as a lack of love or appreciation because those are things that Mulder shows her every single day.

Or he used to. 

If she had to pinpoint the moment she lost him, it could probably all be traced back to the colonization that never happened. But the more she reflected over the last year- and she had plenty of time to reflect as she ate dinner alone, watched television alone, and more often than not, slept alone- the more she wondered if she had ever truly had him. Has he ever belonged to her or has he always belonged to his quest?

It was never something that he kept from her. She has known it from the very beginning. _“I don’t think I’m the one who’s changed. This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. This is who I was before I met you. It’s what I do, it’s everything I know.”_

Shaking fingers reach for the dial and turn the radio up, the wail of Mick Jagger drowning out the words he had uttered so many years ago. The thing is, he was exactly right. He hadn’t changed and for the longest time she hadn’t thought that she wanted him to. She fell in love with him for exactly who he was, passionate, driven, stubborn to a fault. 

She is the one who changed, stopped chasing after monsters in the dark and started building a life. She might have given away their son while he was in the New Mexico desert hiding from alien super soldiers and he might have been a fugitive for the first few years, but she had tried her best to live a normal life. A life that she wanted to share with him. 

But if she knows one thing about the man that she loves, it is that no one can force his hand.

She pulls up to the edge of the property, the gate left open, as it often is since Mulder became a free man and the need for extra security decreased. As she makes her way up the long dirt driveway, she thinks about the darkness that they can never escape. She told him that she didn’t want it in their home anymore, that she wanted to get as far away from it as she possibly could. He had held her, kissed her and then stepped aside and invited the darkness to come in and make itself comfortable. It consumed them, as she always feared it would, filling every room in the house, suffocating her from the inside out. 

It isn’t his fault, the depression. As a medical doctor, she knows that. It is a chemical imbalance in his brain. The pathophysiology linked to diminished activity of serotonin pathways. But he is doing better now, taking the medication she prescribed, eating three meals a day, though usually at his desk. He is even on a semi-regular sleep schedule, though usually on his office couch. 

Putting the car in park, she lets out a deep sigh as she stares up at their unremarkable house, shrouded in the very darkness she detests. The living room and kitchen lights are obviously off and through one window she can see a sliver of fluorescent light coming from Mulder’s office. Her stomach sinks.

She cuts the engine and gathers her things. The worn steps groan under her weight and she thinks about how she asked Mulder to sand down the banister, riddled with splintered wood, months ago, before the first frost. Just another thing he never got around to. Juggling her bag and the tupperware in one hand, she unlocks the door and steps into the darkness. 

Everything is exactly as she left it and if she didn’t know that he had to at least drain his bladder a few times in the twelve hours she’d been gone, she would be wondering if he had even left his office at all. She sits down at the table, dropping her purse to the floor. A lump forms in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

The house is quiet except for the faint shuffle of papers and click of keys, just serving to highlight the silence. She goes somewhere in her mind. Somewhere that for years she never let herself venture, but where she has lately been a frequent visitor. 

_She is walking through the front door, greeted by multi-colored balloons and a banner that reads, “Happy 50th Birthday!” The smell of fresh tomato sauce assaults her olfactory system. She hangs her coat up on the tree by the door and deposits her briefcase on the ground before making her way to the kitchen. Mulder is standing by the stove, his large hand covering a smaller one on the wooden spoon that stirs the sauce._

_After taking a moment to admire the sight before her, she clears her throat. Their heads whip around, two pairs of hazel eyes finding her, matching grins breaking out on their faces. “Happy Birthday, Mom!” William drops the spoon in the pot and strides over to her. He embraces her and she feels warmth spreading through her body. Mulder smiles at her over their son’s head and in this moment, everything is perfect._

Blinking rapidly, she pulls herself from the fantasy. That’s all it is and all it will ever be. 

If she could go back and change one thing, how different would their lives have turned out? What if she had told Mulder how she felt sooner? What if she hadn’t sent him away just days after their son was born? What if she hadn’t given William up? What if, what if, what if? 

None of it matters now because she can’t go back. All she can do is go forward. But as long as she remains in this house, she will never be able to. 

In that moment as she stares into the darkness, she knows what she has to do. 

If she were being honest with herself, she has known this was coming for a long time. Mulder might be doing better, but their relationship was circling the drain. The only thing she has felt for the last year has been a bone-chilling loneliness, even on the rare nights she fell asleep with his warm frame surrounding her. As much as she wants to lay all the blame at his feet, she knows that she hasn’t been perfect. She thinks of all the nights “I’m fine” fell from her lips without thought when the truth was she was anything but fine.

She wants to cry. Thinks she should be crying as she makes the decision to end the most significant relationship she has ever had. But the tears refuse to come. 

Her jacket still wrapped around her, she scoops up her purse and makes her way upstairs to pack a bag, not seeing a need to drag this out any longer than it already has been. She walks past the closed door that leads to the room they never talk about. She thinks of blue bunny ear hats and Joy to the World and “the truth we both know.” Her heart clenches. 

A small suitcase is filled with just the essentials, she can always buy new clothes or toiletries, not particularly attached to any material objects in the house. She looks down at the bed, made perfectly this morning before she left for the hospital. Running one finger across the cool sheets, she thinks about the last time they made love. She hadn’t known then that it would be the last time, or maybe she had. Mulder had wandered in about an hour after she had lain down, in that state between wakefulness and slumber. He climbed in behind her, his erection pressing against her back. They hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even kissed.

That was three months ago. At first she tried to fill the void by getting herself off, but after she came, instead of relief she simply felt loss. So she stopped. 

She reaches for the framed photo of them that sits on the nightstand. Her mother had taken it a few Christmases ago. They’re standing in front of the tree, Mulder’s arms wrapped around her waist. He is gazing down at her, Scully beaming at the camera. Seeing the happiness that slipped through their fingers reflected back at her is too painful and she tucks the frame away in her bag, buried between two sweaters. 

When they went on the run, when she left her entire life behind for him, she had truly believed that they could make it through anything, as long as they had each other. If she had regrets, loving him, following him, were never among them. 

This is not about a lack of love. She loves Mulder more than anyone or anything in the entire world and is certain that would always be the case.

He doesn’t see this coming, she knows that. Mulder can see things that no one else can, it’s one of the things she loves the most about him, yet he often seems to miss what’s staring him right in the face. 

She carries the bag with her down the stairs and practically bumps into Mulder coming out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“Hey, Scully,” he says, giving her a warm smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “How was work?”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Fine.” There’s that word again. 

“You going somewhere?” He gestures to the luggage. 

The moment of truth. 

“I’m going to my mom’s.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mulder, it’s my birthday.” She doesn’t know why she said it. It just came out. It feels as though she is outside herself, watching this not-really-a-conversation take place. 

“Is- shit, it’s the 23rd.” His face contorts with recognition. “Happy birthday.” One hand comes up to grip her arm and he leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You having brunch with your mom in the morning?”

“I-I don’t know.” It was an annual tradition. 

“Well, tell Maggie I said hello.” 

“I will.” 

He turns to head back into his office, but she stops him. 

“Mulder, I’m leaving.”

He faces her again, confused at first. But she sees the exact moment of realization. If you could watch someone’s heart physically shatter, she imagines it would look just like this. 

“Sc-Scully. What?” 

“I can’t do this anymore, Mulder.” 

They stare into each other’s eyes. His wet green orbs and her deep blue pools. She thinks about every wordless conversation they’ve had as they share one more. She knows that he won’t stop her. She’s right, even though she isn’t entirely certain she wanted to be.

As she pulls away from the house, warm, wet rivers of salt finally slide down the deserts of her cheeks. She’s halfway to her mother’s house when she realizes that she forgot her cupcakes on the kitchen table. 

* * *

The ground beneath him is cold. He had crumpled to the floor when the door shut behind her and he listens now to the sound of gravel crackling becoming fainter as she drives away.

Leaves him.

A million thoughts are racing through his head and his legs are burning with the desire to chase after her, but he doesn’t move. He can’t move. 

How could he have let this happen? How could he have driven her away? How long has she been planning this? 

He thinks about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time he held her. If he had known they would be the last time, he would have done them all differently. Fuck, he would have done everything differently. 

He realizes that somewhere along the way he took her for granted. How many times had he left her? Run off to the Bermuda Triangle or jumped onto a moving train, her voice in his ear begging him not to? And every time she stood by him. She never wavered. 

_“My work is here with you now.”_

_“Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn’t change a day.”_

_“It’s what made me follow you… why I’d do it all over again.”_

He’d been afraid of losing Scully for years. Abduction, colonization, terminal cancer, shadowy government figures who viewed her as a sacrificial chess piece. He was intimately familiar with the fear of being without her. However, of all the fantastic possibilities in this universe or any other, Scully walking away was the one he hadn’t considered. 

But maybe that was the problem. He didn’t consider her. Her wants or her needs. He had taken her for granted. Probably since the very beginning, but definitely over the last few years. He was so busy chasing after The Truth, that he stopped listening, stopped seeing her. 

She had stayed with him through everything and what did she have to show for it? A dead sister, a chip in the back of her neck, two lost children. Could he blame her for finally deciding that he wasn’t worth it? 

Blood pounds in his ears. His nails dig into his palms. He doesn’t feel it, doesn’t feel anything. He looks around at the home they made together and he sees Scully everywhere. Her trainers in the basket by the door. Her favorite afghan folded neatly over the back of the couch. A half-finished crossword puzzle on the coffee table. Her perfume still lingers in the air. This house will never feel like home again without her. No foundation, four walls, and a roof could ever compete with the warmth of Scully’s arms and the depth of her love. That is his home. 

Scully deserves so much better than him. He knows this, has known this for twenty years. He can be selfish and stubborn, but he loves Scully more than anything or anyone. Yet he can’t remember the last time he told her, showed her. He shakes his head, scrubs a rough hand down his face. No wonder she left him. 

He knows that there were warning signs, things he didn’t pay attention to or cast aside, determined in his never-ending pursuit. 

_ “That’s not my life anymore… I cannot look into the darkness with you anymore. I cannot stand what it does to you or to me.” _

He told her that he knew. Let the darkness try. But he’d slipped back into his old habits with ease, obsessed with the impending colonization date and then wondering where it all went wrong. What he should have been doing all that time was proving to her that she was his truth. His constant, his touchstone, his one in five billion. 

He can do better, he knows he can. He can be the man that she deserves. Talk to her, listen to her, choose her above all else. He curses the fact that it took her walking out, a decision he knows she didn’t make lightly to clear away the fog in his mind and point him back in the direction of Scully, his one true north. 

His eyelids are getting heavy, sleep a tempting siren calling him to surrender. He’s not ready to stand up just yet, he thinks, as he slips into unconsciousness there on the floor, but soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I love feedback, especially since this is only my second XF fic, so please leave comment! :)


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